


walk, walk, fashion, baby

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (mild and joking in tone but better safe than sorry), Corsetry, Crossdressing, Derogatory Language, Domestic, Fluff, Gay, Hugs, Jewelry, M/M, Makeup, No Literary Value, No Plot/Plotless, Period clothing, Vintage Clothes, casual mind reading, does this count as crack, gay men in a gay relationship talk about gay things, oh uh, some feelings snuck in so beware of those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: Elias has a fundraising dinner to attend. Peter indulges him.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020





	walk, walk, fashion, baby

“I’m not _made_ of money, you know.”

Elias didn’t turn around. Peter could see his own reflection in the mirror—leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, the very picture of an annoyed spouse.

“Of course you are,” Elias replied cheerfully, pulling the corset slightly tighter. His breath caught as he struggled with it. “That’s the whole point of you.”

Peter stepped closer, running a palm down Elias’ back. “Feeling nostalgic?”

Elias took a deep breath. “A little, yes. Help me with this?”

Peter wrapped the strings around his hands and tugged. “Vintage or reproduction?”

“Vintage,” Elias groaned, “I’m not cheap.”

“The opposite,” Peter assured him, tying the corset laces into a bow at the base and smoothing his hands over Elias’ hips. “I saw the bill. This is quite an ensemble you’re putting together. Trying to impress someone?”

“There’s a fundraising dinner tonight,” Elias explained, picking up the plain white skirt—Peter figured it was some kind of petticoat—and sliding it over his head, settling it around his hips. “And this body is just so _pretty_ , why not show it off?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. Elias met his gaze in the mirror and rolled his eyes, petulantly.

“Not _that_ kind of fundraising dinner, good lord, Peter. Help me with the skirt, will you?”

Peter helped him get it over his head, buttoning it in the back. “Didn’t the women who wore these things have servants to help them?”

Elias was quiet just long enough that Peter thought he might have crossed a line, but he scoffed after a moment. “It’s a good thing you’re here, then.”

“I don’t have to come, do I?” Peter asked, as Elias shrugged on something white and vaguely vest-shaped.

“It’s a camisole,” Elias said. “And no, I’m quite confident in having your funds.”

“Don’t read my mind,” Peter sighed, helping Elias into the bodice and buttoning it down.

“You think so loudly,” Elias smacked Peter’s hands away and finished the buttons. “Do you like the outfit?”

The dress was a deep green, embroidered with gold and detailed with black lace. It was slightly too dark for Elias’ skin tone—it made him look washed out. 

It wasn’t a bad look. Just uncanny.

“Thank you,” Elias grinned, reaching for Peter’s hands.

“Elias,” Peter scolded, but he kissed Elias anyway.

“Try those black pearl studs,” Peter suggested. “And the wire-frame glasses. You look like a particularly well-dressed ghost.”

“In a manner of speaking…” Elias joked, fetching the suggested accessories from the dresser. “...I am.”

“Are you ever going to stop talking about that?”

Elias just smirked. He put in one earring, then the other, and let Peter set the glasses on his face. 

“Much better,” Peter said. He cupped Elias’ cheek, brushing across his cheek, and his thumb came away pink. “Makeup, too? You really are going the painted whore route.”

“No point in doing it halfway,” Elias smirked, stepping away from Peter. He checked his reflection in the mirror, leaning close to peer at the smudge on his cheek. 

“Why are you wearing a dress to a fundraising dinner?” Peter asked, as Elias opened a circular palette of pink pigment—blush, Peter assumed—and tapped it onto his cheek with a brush. “Don’t the people with money usually… have things to say about men in dresses?”

“Those aren’t the people I’m interested in forming partnerships with,” Elias replied, snapping the palette shut. “I know my audience. If anyone sees a problem with me, they can leave.”

Peter watched him for a moment, then laughed. Elias glanced up, a smile curling his mouth.

“No, Peter,” he said, so softly that it felt like pressure on Peter’s chest. “I won’t need help.”

“Isn’t it funny that I thought that?” Peter murmured, wrapping his arms around Elias’ waist and kissing the top of his head. “Of course you don’t.”

“Of course,” Elias replied. 

After a moment, he extricated himself from Peter’s arms and headed out the door, pausing just before he left for a backwards glance and a smile. “I’ll see you after the party, Peter. Stay around and I’ll let you get me _out_ of this afterwards.”


End file.
